


A Thousand Words

by notvelma



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Drawing, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thousand words is the worth of one portrait drawn by Ryan O'Reily and given to Officer Sean Murphy. Except Murphy demands an explanation, and if Ryan was good with words like that, he wouldn't have drawn the picture instead, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended as a Valentine's Day story, but obviously it's being posted a little late.  
> This occurred because I had a dream that led to a "what if Ryan O'Reily liked to draw" and this is what came of it.
> 
> I would also like to point out that the lovely [theanimatedninja94](http://theanimatedninja94.tumblr.com) on tumblr even made some [art](http://aubreyisvelma.tumblr.com/post/17746571329/insert-close-enough-meme-here) to go with this!

Emerald City has been in nightly lockdown for two hours, but there are still three more hours until lights out, and Ryan O'Reily is using that to his advantage.

His back is to his brother as the two of them sit in their pod. While Cyril is sitting on the bottom bunk bed, Ryan is sitting in the chair, facing out through the Plexiglas windows with a notepad in his lap and a pencil in his hand as he sketches. 

"Ryan?" Cyril says questioningly.

For a moment, Ryan disregards his brother, not wanting to be disturbed as he concentrates. 

"Ryan?" Cyril says again, louder this time, more insistent. He doesn't like being ignored.

"What?" He can't help the irritated tone in his voice, but Cyril doesn't seem to notice.

"What are you doing?" 

"Nothing, Cyril. Go read your book." He doesn't even look back, afraid to lose his focus. 

Behind him, Ryan hears the bed creak; a moment later he can feel Cyril standing behind him, can smell his brother's sweat and hear his heavy breathing. He continues to ignore it; he doesn't want to be distracted by Cyril's questions right now. 

He's trying to get a better look over at the guard station, where Sean - Officer Murphy - is talking with Mineo, but this distance from there to here and the placement of his pod makes it difficult to see much of anything. 

"Are you drawing, Ryan?" His brother's innocent, questioning tone is nothing like the derisive way Dad would say it, but the words are the same, and that's what causes Ryan's hand to clench around the pencil he's holding, his entire body growing tense. 

"Forget it, Cyril," he says. "It's nothing." He rips the notebook page - and the half-finished drawing on it - out and crumples it up, tossing it on the floor in frustration. 

This whole idea is a stupid one, anyway. He can't draw faces all that well, and a guy like Murphy is too hard to capture on paper. He's too complex, and Ryan wants it to be perfect even though he knows it won't be - not in time for Valentine's Day tomorrow, at least. Besides, what kinda Valentine is that? Who the fuck wants a drawing of their face for a gift? 

Cyril picks up the paper off the floor and opens it up. "Keep going," he says to Ryan, pushing the paper at his brother. "I wanna see you finish it." And then Cyril looks at him with that wide-open puppy eyed face. Ryan hates that fuckin look because it reminds him of how Cyril used to be. 

"Fine," Ryan says, snatching it back.

He presses the paper against the wall to smooth it out before starting up again. He'll have to draw from memory instead of trying to see Murphy from where he is. He turns his chair around so that his back is to the Plexiglas; there's no point in staring out there, and he doesn't really want the other inmates in their pods to be peeking over at him, trying to see what he's up to. Cyril lies back down on the bed, hands folded behind his head, watching Ryan closely. 

With his eyes closed, Ryan tries to imagine Sean Murphy's face. He sees the dark eyes, his nose and his strong forehead that crinkles when he raises his eyebrows. He pictures the head CO's shoulders, the tilt of his head and a small smile playing at his lips. 

Opening his eyes again, Ryan looks at what he's got so far. It's just a rough outline of his head, neck and shoulders. The pose isn't obvious, but Ryan's trying to get it to look like Murphy's looking sort of down and away at something amusing. Ryan likes the half-smile that Murphy gets when he's actually happy – how rare that is in a place like Oz. The drawing shows a bit of his eyes and mouth, but otherwise there isn't much there, and it doesn't look like anybody in particular just yet.

Ryan starts with the pencil again, adding in the nose, more details around the eyes...

"I remember one time," Cyril says, "when you drew me and Mama said it was so good. She was so proud of you." His voice is soft, and when Ryan looks up at him, Cyril appears lost in the memory. "But Dad threw it away, and he said you were a sissy," Cyril adds. Then he meets his brother's gaze. "But I like it, Ryan. You draw really good." He's sincere, too.

"Thanks, Cyril." Ryan remembers the incident to which is brother is referring and he remembers that he'd stopped drawing after that, too. He'd only started the hobby up again after he'd come to Oz. Most of what he drew was dumb little sketches from memory – Said on his prayer mat, McManus shouting into the mic about some stupid new rule he'd come up with... and once Ryan had spent almost three days trying to sketch out, from memory, Hoyt with his hands flat on the table during a pat down from one of the guards. It had taken him a long time to get the angles right, and while he'd kept the drawing, he still wasn't completely happy with it. It was a tough pose. 

None of his work was that great, but it was something to do during lockdowns, something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied. Something productive, even if he never showed it to anybody.

*

When Ryan's finally done with the drawing, after a lot of careful work and helpful silence from Cyril, he holds it out to look at it. It's not the greatest, but at least it looks like Murphy. That's all he really wants, and he's kind of proud of this one, all things considered.

Cyril stands up again to look at the finished product. "Is that Officer Murphy?" he asks.

"Yeah," Ryan says. "Think he'll know if it's him?" 

Cyril nods, but then he looks nervous for a minute, like he wants to say something but can't. Then he says, "I like Officer Murphy better than Officer Howell." He watches Ryan, carefully. 

"Me too," Ryan says, but he doesn't want to ask Cyril what he means - if he understands why Ryan's doing this the old Cyril - before-the-accident Cyril - would know in an instant. He'd probably be the one telling Ryan the whole thing was dumb, that he was being stupid for letting himself feel this way. A CO is as good as a cop, and guys like Ryan don't fall in love with cops - and he cringes a little at the thought – him, Ryan O'Reily, in love with a man? So much for not being a fag. 

Murphy's a good guy, though. He watches out for Cyril when Ryan can't. He never told anybody about the spiked water bottles, either, even if he should have. And sometimes, Ryan thinks that Murphy maybe glances at him too long. And yeah, so that's not a lot to go on, but it's a hell of a lot more than he ever got from Gloria... and way more than he got from Howell, too. Though he thinks that if Murphy ever offered him what he gets from Howell, well, he wouldn't be able to say no to that, either. 

He grins a little when he thinks of them doing that kinda stuff, in one of the staff bathrooms or an empty classroom, but then he snaps out of it. He's got to think of how to sign the finished drawing. His name's gonna be on it, of course, but what else? "Happy Valentine's Day" is too boring and it doesn't really say anything special. "I love you" would be way too much. Besides, those words are best left whispered into an ear romantically, not scribbled on a drawing as an afterthought. 

It's almost lights out now, and Ryan doesn't have any more time to think about it, so he ends up putting "Be My Valentine?" at the bottom, with a little shamrock, and then signs his name neat enough so that Murphy can read it and know who it's from; he doesn't want there to be any confusion there

The call for lights out comes just as Ryan is dotting the "I" in his last name. He leaves the drawing on the chair for now, face down, and then helps tuck Cyril into bed. In the morning, he'll figure out how to get it to Murphy.

*

"COUNT!" comes Murphy's voice as the pod doors buzz open. Ryan hops out of bed and tugs on his pants while Cyril sits up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

The drawing is still on the chair where he'd left it the night before, but now Ryan picks it up, folding it so that it can fit into the pocket of his pants, where he tucks it away. Then he pulls on a shirt and heads out to the hall with Cyril to be counted.

His first thought is that he can slip the drawing into Murphy's hand, but the morning doesn't give him too much chance to get close to the guy. First there's a fight between a couple of the bikers that Murphy has to break up, and then Ryan's got kitchen duty with Cyril. Even while he's working in the kitchen, Ryan's hand keeps sneaking down to his pocket, reassuring himself that it's still there. 

When he's back in Em City that afternoon, Ryan realizes that his initial plan isn't going to work. Murphy's too busy with everybody else, and if Ryan goes up to him now, he's going to wonder what's up. Then he comes up with a better idea. Having Cyril deliver the drawing is a bit like being in middle school and passing notes in class, but using his brother to do his dirty work is something Ryan's always done. Cyril agrees to do it for him, though, so he doesn't bother trying to feel guilty. 

Ryan gives Cyril the folded-up drawing and the instructions before joining Beecher at the chess table. This way he's got a perfect view as Cyril approaches the head CO. They're too far away for Ryan to hear what they're saying, but he sees Cyril press the paper into Murphy's hand. The guy looks confused for a minute, but then he pats Cyril on the back and pockets the drawing.

Probably Sean thinks that Cyril made him a crappy crayon valentine. Well, he'll find out soon enough when he gets around to opening it. Ryan's nervous about that, but he knows that if he can trust anybody with his feelings, Sean is the guy.

* 

Ryan's doing laundry with Keller when Murphy finds him, almost an hour later. He would say that he'd completely forgotten about the valentine, but that wouldn't be honest. He's been thinking of nothing else all day long.

"Hey, O'Reily," says the voice that sends a shiver down Ryan's spine. 

He turns to see the hack standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. The sight of him standing there in his uniform is almost too much; Ryan wants very much to see what's underneath it. The thought is so sudden that it startles him. 

Chris is folding his shirt, but he turns to Ryan and raises his eyebrows like he thinks something's up, but Keller is probably the last person Ryan would ever tell about this. 

Ignoring the other inmate, Ryan instead turns on his best charming grin to the officer still standing in the doorway. "Murphy. What can I help you with?" Like maybe he's doing the guy a favor.

"Come with me," says Murphy, gesturing with his head out the door. 

The way Sean orders him around gets Ryan a little hot, but he's always had a bit of an issue with authority – the issue being that he kind of gets off on being told what to do by somebody like Sean. He also gets off on defying orders, especially when it's right to someone's face like that. It gives him a bit of a rush. In this case, though, he knows that following the orders just might mean something better than a momentary rush that he'd get from disobeying. 

With a wink at Chris, Ryan follows Sean Murphy out of the laundry room.

"So what's the deal?" he asks, but Sean doesn't answer him yet. They keep walking until they get to an empty classroom, at which point Sean sort of shoves Ryan into the room and closes the door behind the both of them. There aren't any windows, Ryan realizes, which means that they're hidden from view. 

He digs into his shirt pocket and takes out the piece of paper, unfolding it carefully. Sean holds up the crinkled drawing, which looks worse for the wear now that it's been in various pockets and folded up all day. "What the fuck is this?" he asks. "Some kinda fuckin joke? Who'd you bully into doing this for you?" He looks upset, which is not the reaction Ryan had been expecting. 

"I did that," Ryan says. "What's the matter, don't you like it?" He tries to play it off cool, but he's kind of disappointed. Maybe he's fucked this up, just like he's fucked it up with Shannon, with Gloria, with every other woman he'd been with. 

"I don't know what kind of shit you're trying to pull, O'Reily, but it ain't gonna work on me." He doesn't look impressed in the least. 

"Fuck's sake, Sean, it's a valentine, not a fuckin engagement ring." 

"That's not the question. Why the fuck are you giving me a valentine, O'Reily?" Sean crosses his arms over his chest and looks like he's thinking about clocking Ryan upside the head. "I'm not Gloria Nathan, in case you hadn't fuckin noticed." 

Like Ryan couldn't tell the difference. If he'd wanted to send Gloria a fucking valentine, he would have. "Sorry I wasted my time," Ryan huffs. He reaches for the drawing. If Sean doesn't want it, he'll keep it for his personal collection or something.

But Sean holds it up, out of Ryan's reach. "What's the problem, O'Reily? Why can't you just tell me what the hell this is about and get it over with?" Instead of looking upset now, Sean looks a bit like he's considering that Ryan might actually be serious.

Ryan sighs heavily. "If I had the words I wouldn't have spent all the time making the stupid drawing." And all he can feel right now is that he did waste his time, because Murphy didn't get it and now he's gotta try to find the words to say what the drawing was supposed to. 

The way Sean tilts his head says something, but Ryan doesn't know what - at least, not until he gets a smirk playing on Sean's lips. "What's the matter, O'Reily? You always got something to say."

He doesn't say anything because he's thinking. He knows that Sean will never take that first step. He can't, even if he wants to, because of everything that lies between them – the rules, of course, and Sean's job. Hell, even Sean's friendship with McManus is at stake if he makes a move on Ryan.

And that's what sucks, because Ryan knows that if the two of them had met on the outside – in a bar, on the street, in college – not that Ryan had ever gone to college, but maybe if things had been different and they'd had money or something, he could have – if he'd met Murphy pretty much anywhere else, they probably would have already fucked by now. 

Keeping all of that in mind, Ryan is the one to close the distance between the two of them. He doesn't want to make a mistake here, so even as he backs Sean up against the well, Ryan watches for a reaction, for anything that might suggest that Sean isn't okay with this. But there is nothing on the hack's face other than anticipation. 

This isn't exactly the scenario that Ryan had been expecting for their first kiss, and the initial touch of lips is too soft and gentle for his liking, but he's trying to be careful. 

Sean must realize this, because in the next instant he's cupping Ryan's face in his callused hands, the drawing forgotten on the floor as he deepens the kiss. He wants this just as badly as Ryan does, judging by the way he brings their bodies together, his hips flush against Ryan's. 

Now it's as good as any of Ryan's fantasies – even better, though, because it's reality. He grips the front of Sean's uniform as leverage, slowly grinding up against the other man like a horny teenager. It's not like he gets a lot of chance for sex in this place anyway. Having Sean right here, in his grasp has Ryan pretty jacked up. 

Then Sean's hands are on Ryan's chest, pushing him away. "Jesus, O'Reily." 

"For fuck's sake, I just had my tongue in your mouth. The least you can do is call me Ryan." And he shouldn't be snarking like this after they were just making out like teenagers, but it's automatic for him. Besides, Sean can handle it. Ryan smirks as he thinks _oh yeah, Sean can handle me all he wants._

"Ryan," Sean says. He has his hands on Ryan's shoulders, holding him at arm's length. "Thank you. That was –" And he shrugs. 

Grinning, Ryan says, "not so easy finding the words now, is it, Sean?" 

Instead of arguing, they're both reaching for each other again and the kiss is like a collision and Ryan's hands are everywhere, but Sean's just holding Ryan's face between his hands, his body perfectly still, like he's afraid if he moves he'll set off a bomb or something. 

He's the one that breaks it off again a moment later. "I – I have to go," Sean says abruptly. "I have a meeting with McManus in a bit. But, ah, thanks for the art." He stoops down to pick it up off the floor, folding it up and sticking the paper back into his pocket.

Ryan watches him leave the room. Fuck, he thinks to himself. He's not sure if things are all that much better off than they were yesterday. _Happy fuckin Valentine's Day._

Well, there's always St. Patrick's Day to look forward to.


End file.
